


BBQ Blues

by nebulas (strawberry_bee)



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, food truck au, groot is a hippy, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11026917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_bee/pseuds/nebulas
Summary: "Welcome to the fuck truck. We don't fuck in the truck because Yondu would kill my ass but metaphorically, you know where it's at" Peter said."Quill, if I wasn't in debt up to my eyeballs I would have personally fired myself for that introduction alone,” Rocket said.----Peter is the adopted son of Missouri’s one and only Ravager's BBQ owner; Yondu. He has been entrusted with the restaurant's very first food truck, something that is no small feat. Everything had gone fine, until the appearance of a rival food truck led by two sisters, Gamora and Nebula, shake up the scene and puts Peter’s sales in jeopardy. Will Peter be able to rectify the rivalry in time? Will Yondu stop harping on him? Time can only tell.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter leaned against the counter, sizing up the new recruits. Groot was hunched over, too tall for the truck to stand properly. He was the definition of a hippy; he wore all greens and browns, and Peter knew the smell of weed anywhere. Beside him Rocket sat on the counter of the truck, only four foot three with a wicked set of tattoos on his arms. He also had killer eyeliner, that made even Peter a little bit jealous. 

“Welcome to the fuck truck. We don’t fuck in the truck because Yondu would kill my ass, but metaphorically, you know where it’s at,” Peter said.

“Quill, if I wasn’t in debt up to my eyeballs I would have personally fired myself for that introduction alone,” Rocket said. 

“Well, you’d better get used to it, because I say that kinda thing on the regular. Are you any good with a knife Rocket?” Peter asked. 

“I was born with one in my hand,” He said, jumping down from the counter.

“Your poor mother,” Peter said gravely. 

They prepped the kitchen together, slicing the brisket into thin strips that Peter began to grill immediately. Groot set himself to chopping the peppers and onions, which led to him being extremely glassy-eyed whenever Peter asked him a question. 

The good thing about Rocket and Groot as a pair was the fact that Groot only used ASL, and Rocket just happened to know it. If it weren’t for Rocket, Peter would’ve just assumed Groot was the strong and silent type. 

Peter pulled up the shutter to view the little plaza they were set up in. Across the way was the semi-permanent snow cone stand. The owner, Drax, was just putting his apron on. He spotted Peter and raised his hand in greeting. Peter waved back. He liked him well enough, when he wasn’t trying to break Peter’s ribs with one of his infamous hugs. 

What caught Peter’s attention was a new food truck beside Drax’s. Well, what really caught his attention was the sight of a long haired beauty perched just against the window, picking her nails with a knife.

“Boys, looks like we got some competition,” Peter said, noting the chalkboard sign just in front of the opposing food truck that read ‘THANOS CAFE’ 

“Who the hell wants coffee in July?” Rocket asked, hoisting himself up on the window to see out. 

“They’re offering iced mochas. This is serious stuff, Rocket,” Peter moved away from the window. He took off his apron and left it on the hook, hopping out of the truck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rocket shouted after Peter.

“Fraternizing with the enemy, I’ll be back,” Peter called over his shoulder. He pushed his shoulders back and ambled over, chin jutted out as he pretended to have little care for the newcomers. 

“Can I help you?” The woman asked, leaning out of the window slightly. Her nametag read Gamora in wide, looping letters. Peter leaned against her food truck, resting a hand on his hip.

“Just checkin’ out the newbies. You can never be to sure about what everyone has to offer,” He said, relaxing against the heated metal of her truck.

“You’re not slick. I saw you walking over here the entire way,  _ and  _ your coworkers are leaning out the window,” Gamora said, moving back into the truck. Peter jerked his head in the direction of his truck. Groot and Rocket waved to him. Peter waved his hand at them, a clear sign to  _ shoo, you’re blowing my cover.  _ Rocket flipped him off before disappearing, and Groot only offered a friendly smile. 

“Hey, Gamora. I wanna try one of your iced mocha thingies,” Peter said. 

“They’re for paying customers only,” Another woman snapped, popping her head out of the window to glare at him. Peter squinted, blinded by her bald head in the sunlight. 

“Well, Nebula, you’re just in luck, I just so happen to have a few pennies to rub together that might suit you,” Peter said. Nebula squinted at him for a moment, before jerking back into the truck. Peter took his sweet time pulling out the cash. 

“I told you to get rid of him!” Gamora said.

“Well, sister, he’s a paying customer, so I highly doubt Thanos would be pleased if we just turned him away because you don’t like the look of him!” Nebula said, louder than her sister. They both fell silent, and then Gamora poked her head out.

“Sorry for the interruption, we had a little trouble with the ice machine,” Gamora said, handing him a medium mocha. 

“It’s alright, no need to blame the icemaker for your chilly attitude towards me,” Peter said. 

“I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to hear that,” Gamora said.

“Oh, I understand, I’m a lot to handle,” Peter said, tapping his temple. He handed her the cash and turned on his heel, heading back to the truck. He studied the writing on the cup, which had the same looping style as the nametags. He wondered who had put the star next to the end of his name, it was cute.

Once in the confines of the truck, he was faced with Groot and Rocket, who had both forgotten coincidentally to do their jobs.

“Come on guys, it’s almost rush hour,” Peter complained, setting the mocha on the highest shelf before flipping the brisket over. It was a little charred, but it would still be good slathered with a little extra bbq sauce. 

“So did you try the drink?” Rocket asked.

“No, I have a job to do,” Peter said. He didn’t want to try the drink. He had a sweet tooth, and he knew a weakness when he saw one.

“Groot, hand me it, I wanna try it,” Rocket ordered. Peter snatched the cup away from Groot in the nick of time. 

“Guys, I paid for it, it’s mine,” Peter said defensively. 

“You don’t have to be a dick about it,” Rocket grumbled. 

“If you want one so badly, go get one on your lunch break,” Peter said. Groot signed something to Rocket.

“Groot says that you’re being very capitalistic with your iced mocha,” Rocket translated.

“Oh, great, the hippy is a communist too,” Peter grumbled. The timer buzzed on his phone, and with it came the telltale sounds of chattering crowds.

“It’s showtime,” Peter said dramatically. 

They met the lunch rush with ease. Rocket and Groot adjusted quickly, with only one spill that led to Rocket landing straight on his ass. Peter tried not to laugh at him, but it was his fault the bbq sauce had spilled. Peter tried not to worry about the food truck across the way, and how they had a decent line going as well. He marked it down to curiosity. Nothing beat BBQ in the summertime, and they would be back. Hell, if they wanted to get a coffee with their ribs, what did Peter care? 

“I think that’s about it,” Peter said, handing the last office worker their brisket sandwich.

“Thank god, Groot here is gonna need a back massage after slouching all day,” Rocket said. Groot nodded amiably, as if back pain was just one more thing in the universe that he tolerated with a gentle passivity. 

“Hey, I’ll clean up tonight. You guys did great. Same time tomorrow?” Peter said. 

“You got it, boss. Hopefully I can get this freaking bbq smell out of my hair by tomorrow,” Rocket said, pushing the back door open. 

“You get used to the smell!” Peter called after him. Groot rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing gently before he hopped out as well. 

“See you later, Groot,” Peter said, as Groot shut the door behind him. The second they were gone, he turned on the radio. He sashayed his hips to  _ pour some sugar on me,  _ whistling as he mopped up Rocket’s mess. He was in his element, making it unfair when Gamora tapped on his window. 

“Holy shit balls, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Peter said, clutching the mop to his chest.

“Can you turn that down?” Gamora shouted. Peter grudgingly turned his radio down. 

“Why’d you come over?” Peter asked, leaning against the window. He noticed a bit of whipped cream smudged onto her cheekbone. He resisted the urge to rub it away. 

“I came over to apologize for my behavior earlier,” Gamora took a deep breath. “And to ask for a brisket sandwich. Nebula thinks you pulled a tactic on me earlier to figure out the competition or something.” 

“Aw, just admit you want a taste of my meat,” Peter said affectionately, ducking back into the truck.

“You are absolutely disgusting,” Gamora said from outside. Peter hid a smile as he threw together a sandwich for her. He added extra meat, just because. 

“Sorry for the wait,” Peter said, handing her the brisket sandwich. Gamora gave him a five, two dollars extra than the cost of the sandwich.

“Keep the change,” Gamora said. 

“Oh, and she’s generous too,” Peter teased. Gamora raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, before turning away and heading back to the truck. Peter shut the window to the truck, and finished cleaning up. He spotted the melted mocha on the highest shelf, and for the hell of it, took a sip.

It was still quite good, despite the fact it had been in the heat for all of one day. He just wished he had drank it while it was iced. 

There was no helping that anymore, he had Yondu to report to. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Peter, you’re breakin’ your old man’s heart,” Yondu said, looking up from his computer. Peter slouched in the dingy chair. 

“I thought we’ve been doing pretty well, all things considered,” Peter said, kicking the edge of the desk. 

“You’re not makin’ the quota I set for ya. I don't give a rats ass about the new cafe truck, if you need to start sellin’ coffee on the sly, you’d better learn how to roast some goddamn beans,” Yondu said, slamming his hand on the table. Peter sat up, scowling. 

“We’re at peak selling! Don’t act like I don’t know how the business works, anyone knows that bbq sells best in the summer,” Peter said. 

“That’s what I’m talking about boy! You’re pullin’ May sales right about now, and that’s not what I need!” Yondu shouted. 

“What are you talking about? What do you need? Are we in debt or something?” Peter asked. 

“No, we ain’t in debt,” Yondu suddenly deflated, leaning against his chair as he chewed on the toothpick in his mouth. “I’m wantin’ to take Kraglin on a cruise in a couple of weeks, an’ I need you to be responsible enough to hold down the restaurant and the food truck.” 

“Oh! That’s great Yondu, while you assholes are drinking martinis, I’m going to be marinating in hell,” Peter complained. 

“Watch it, this hell kept the clothes on your back,” Yondu replied.

“Yeah yeah, and the brisket put me to bed every night and read bedtime stories to me, thanks a lot, Yondu,” Peter rose to his feet. 

“You’d better meet your quota this week, or else Quill!” Yondu shouted after him. Peter slammed the door to his office. He stood there, fuming. 

“Hey Quill, we’re here early for the food truck, if you’re done with your father-son bonding time,” Rocket said. Peter rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t Rocket’s or Groot’s fault his father was a crazy asshole. 

“Sure, yeah, let’s go,” Peter stomped past them, right for the back kitchen. He glanced at the black sharpie marks on the inside of the kitchen door, each marking his height every year on his birthday until it abruptly stopped at fifteen. Peter scowled, not wanting to get sentimental over a stupid tradition Yondu kept up with him until he had decided to end it himself. 

They collected the supplies for the day, packing it into the back of the truck neatly. Groot signed something to Peter, before running off.

“Groot said he’s grabbing something to help with sales today,” Rocket said, slamming a canister of barbecue sauce on the counter. 

“Careful, that’s Yondu’s secret recipe,” Peter said, picking it up and hoisting it onto the rack.

“Oh, and what’s his secret? Extra black pepper?” Rocket asked.

“No, and if he hears you asking after it, he’ll fire you on the spot, so I’d watch it,” Peter said. He craned his head out the back door, searching for Groot. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not being paid by some willy wonka lacky to figure out your dad’s secret recipe so I can run you shitheads out of business,” Rocket grumbled to himself.

“He’s not my dad,” Peter muttered, relief washing over him when he saw Groot round the corner, carrying a large sign. 

“Talks to you like he is,” Rocket shot back. 

“He threatened to cook me in the grill and use my juices for a once in a lifetime brisket sandwich special,” Peter shot back. 

“Damn, dude,” Rocket said. 

Groot entered the truck, setting the sign down against the far wall. He signed to Rocket animatedly, a big grin on his face. 

“Groot here says he’s going to stand outside and hold this big sign here and drum up some customers,” Rocket said, crossing his arms over his chest. Groot turned back to Peter, a hopeful look on his face. 

“Hey, you know what? Anything to get Yondu off my back and onto yours,” Peter brushed past them. 

The drive to their customary location was uneventful. Peter tried not to be dismayed when he saw Thanos Cafe already installed, the bald girl writing rapidly on their customary chalkboard sign. He got out, slamming the door. He whirled around, startled to see Drax already in front of him.

“We’ve got trouble,” Drax said breathlessly. 

“What now? I can’t fix your snow cone truck again. You seriously need to change out the tubing anyways; it’s practically a health code violation at this point,” Peter said, rapping on the window of the truck. Groot threw it open, gesturing to Peter something that he knew to be ‘yeah yeah we’re on it, chill dude’. 

“No, it’s worse. There’s some hipster woman selling one hundred percent all natural vegan frozen yogurt just beside me,” Drax said, grabbing Peter’s shoulder. 

“That’s great, competition is good for business,” Peter said, shrugging him off.

“She tried to give me advice, Quill! If she runs me out of here, all I’ll have left is the farmer’s market!” Drax shouted after Peter. Peter paused.

“Fine, I’ll check her out. What’s her name anyways?” He asked.

“Her name is….Mantis,” Drax said. 

“Mantis?” He asked, turning to Drax to stare at him. 

“That’s how I felt when she first told me! I think her parents must have hated her, or were nudists,” Drax confided.

“Is there much of a difference?” Peter asked, shuddering at the thought. 

Drax snapped his fingers, an expression on his face that told Peter to run the other way.

“I have a fantastic idea to scare her off!” He said, bursting into laughter. 

“Oh god, Drax, what’s your big idea this time?” He asked.

“She mentioned that her food in non pasteurized! Her shit is gonna give everyone the shits! It’s my job to warn the public,” Drax burst into laughter again, and peeled away back to his snow cone truck.

“Do you need me to still talk to her?” Peter called after Drax uselessly. He didn’t have much time to think of a way to keep Drax from calling down a health inspector on some poor hipster girl’s head, for Gamora was marching her way over, Nebula at her feet.

“Can I help you ladies?” Peter asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Nebula and I came by to congratulate you on your brisket sandwich. And to...offer a compromise,” Nebula said. 

“Damn, I can't get two girls to compliment me on my six inch without there being strings attached,” Peter said. Nebula scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“Listen closely, Quill. It’s evident that we are the superior food truck on this block, and are offering a peace treaty you cannot refuse. We get this block every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, you may have Monday and Wednesday. Effective tomorrow,” Nebula said dryily. 

“Woah woah woah, I was here first, if you haven’t noticed. And you guys have only been around for a week; you’re just a novelty, that’s all,” Peter said. 

“I assure you that we are much more than a novelty,” Gamora said. 

“Two pretty girls don’t last long, nor does their shitty coffee,” Peter said. 

“You will not speak to my sister and I like this,” Nebula snapped. 

“Hey now, I didn’t insult you, just your watered down bean shit,” Peter said, grinning sloppily at Nebula. He knew her kind; all bark, no bite.

Or at least he thought he did. 

In all honesty, he sort of deserved the slap she gave him. But that didn’t mean he was going to run off with his tail between his legs. 

“You guys just keep proving me right with your attitudes. These workers aren’t going to put up with a pair like you, especially if you hit them for being grouchy at ya. We’ll see who will be out before the month is up,” Peter said, backing up the steps to the back of his truck. He opened the door, after flubbing for the handle for several moments. 

He slammed the door shut behind him, turning to look at Groot and Rocket, who were both too busy with their prepwork to actually have been working the entire time. 

“You asshats listened in, didn’t you,” Peter said. 

“I gotta say Quill, you held your ground pretty well for someone who has no backbone,” Rocket said, cackling. 

“Hey! I have a backbone, I just don’t use it very often,” Peter said defensively. Groot gave him a sympathetic look. 

“Thanks buddy, I appreciate it,” Peter said, patting Groot on the shoulder as he went to start the ribs. 

The lunch rush went a little better, much to Peter’s gratification. He loved it when he was proven right, especially against a jerk like Nebula. Groot did decently well with his sign, and even threw in some spins on the board to really draw the eye in. Peter was just about to throw in the towel when he heard a commotion across the way. 

“Hang on, I gotta see this,” Peter said, pushing an order into Rocket’s hands as he exited the back of the truck. 

“Don’t eat Mantis Munch! It will give you intense bowel movements like no other!” Drax shouted, waving his arms back and forth. 

“He’s lying!! Don’t listen to him he’s jealous of my success!” Mantis shouted, running from her stall to push Drax unsuccessfully. 

“Ah, shit,” Peter broke into a sprint. 

“Hey, hey! Quit it. Drax, you went too far, and you’re being a dick,” Peter said, putting himself between the two of him.

“Yeah! What he said!” Mantis piped up from behind his shoulder.

“Quiet, I do think your food can get people pretty freaking sick too,” Peter said over his shoulder.

“Oh,” Mantis said softly. 

“If you agree with me, then why are you silencing the truth?” Drax demanded. 

“Because that’s not how food truckers work! We weather anything, whether it’s a vegan truck or a thai truck, we hunker down and stick to what we know!” Peter said. 

“What do you know, you’re just some bbq owner’s brat,” Drax said, turning his back to Peter.

“Whatever man! I’m just trying to keep the peace!” Peter exclaimed. He dropped his arms to his sides. He spotted Gamora in the crowd, and tried not to stick his tongue out at her. He was a grown adult, damn it. 

“Do you know him?” Gamora asked, leaning against Mantis’ stall. 

“What do you care? Shouldn’t you be cackling to your sister about what an idiot I am?” Peter asked. 

“My sister and I are only trying to run a business. Outside of that, I was just curious as to why you ran across the way to defend some new girl who won't survive the month,” Gamora said, shooting a look at Mantis. 

“Because I’m a nice person? And I don’t think it’s quite fair to go under the belt like that just because there’s some competition around,” Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest. Gamora raised an eyebrow at him, before pushing off the stall. 

“Maybe i was wrong,” she paused right beside him, looking him up and down briefly before locking eyes with him “I think you’ll be the one gone within the month.” 

She walked off, tossing her hair over one shoulder as she went. Peter struggled to not flip her off as she went. What was with his life and going to shit all at once? 

Groot tapped him on the shoulder gently.

“What now?” Peter asked. 

The tall man held out a red snowcone hopefully, eyes warm and soft. Peter scowled, snatching the snowcone away and biting into it. He hated cherry flavor. He was half-tempted to throw it out, but he didn’t exactly want to break Groot’s heart. 

“C’mon, lunch hour is almost over and we can go home,” Peter grumbled. They trudged their way back to the food truck, Groot holding the sign under his arm as he went.

“Oh, so you leave me in the middle of lunch hour for some snowcones with Groot, huh? See if I give a damn to translate whatever you’ve got to say, buddy,” Rocket said, aiming the last comment at Groot. 

“Lay off Rocket, I was keeping us from being banned from this block entirely. Drax was gonna pick a fight,” Peter said, hopping into the truck. 

“You shoulda, barbecue goes great with a fistfight,” Rocket said. 

“Not with a bunch of office drones, it doesnt,” Peter sighed. He squinted at the cafe truck across the way. He didn’t want to think his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn he saw a flash of long hair whipping out of sight the second he looked over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah!! I'm so glad everyone loved the first chapter! Here's the second one!! My goal for this fic is to update once a day, since its just a cute little blurb. 
> 
> Thank you SO SO much for your comments, and kudos as well! I'm glad you're enjoying this fic as much as I am writing it. :D


	3. Chapter 3

Peter had only left the truck for five minutes to help Mantis with her spilled yogurt fiasco--she kept claiming Drax had done it-- when he heard a hissing sound coming from the direction of his truck. He turned around just in time to see Nebula booking it across the block, hiding a knife behind her back. 

“Oh, come  _ on,”  _ Peter exclaimed, shoving the broom into Mantis’ hands as he stormed over. Nebula disappeared into her truck just in time, moments before Peter could reach her. He slammed his fist on the door. 

“Hey! Hey assholes! Did you just slash my tires?” Peter shouted. No response came from within, and he rounded the corner. 

“That’s illegal!” Peter shouted waving his arms in front of the open window. At last Gamora poked her head out, looking irritated. 

“What are you going off about now?” She asked, wiping her hands on a dirty towel. 

“Your sister slashed my tires is what I’m going off about,” Peter said. A strange look passed over Gamora’s face, and she reached up, slamming down the metal divider. 

“You’re gonna have to pay for new tires!” Peter shouted helplessly. He heard muffled shouting within the truck, which couldn’t be good. He kicked over their stupid chalkboard sign, and kicked it again for good measure. It skidded underneath the truck, disappearing from sight. 

“Assholes will think I stole it,” Peter grumbled, stalking back to his truck. Groot sat near one of the deflated tires, looking upset. 

“It’s not your fault buddy,” Peter said, passing by him and into the back of the truck. He didn’t even bother to get onto Rocket for eating a brisket sandwich while on the clock. He slumped against a counter, resting his head in his hands. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Rocket asked. Peter lifted his face, glaring at him. Rocket blinked at him innocently, face smeared in sauce. 

“My tires just got slashed, if you weren’t so busy stuffing your face, you would’ve noticed,” Peter snapped. 

“Woah now, no need to get mad at  _ me,  _ I was being a good sous chef and cooked the rest of the brisket over there,” Rocket said, pointing to one of the containers against the far wall. He wiped his face neatly, tossing the napkin into the garbage. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Yondu is gonna kill me when he hears about how much this is all gonna cost,” Peter groaned. 

“Hey man, just tell him it’s part of the gig. I would offer some of my paycheck, but Groot and I got absolutely wasted the other night,” Rocket cackled. Groot peeked through the window long enough to glare at Rocket, before moving away again. 

“Thanks for the support,” Peter said dryly. He would just have to hope they would be able to pull in enough cash today. He figured that if he claimed robbery, Yondu would accept that excuse over a stupid rivalry. Besides, Yondu would probably suggest slashing their tires back, and Peter wasn’t in the mood to do any tire slashing.

But maybe Rocket was.

“Hey, Rocket, got any ideas to get them back?” Peter asked. Rocket threw him a shiteating grin. 

“Quill, I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” Rocket said, before diving underneath the counter, “I’m gonna need you to distract them, I recommend a peace offering of sorts. Better yet, get some of Mantis’ yogurt and put laxatives in them. That’ll ruin their day for sure.” 

“Where am I going to get laxatives before the lunch crowd hits?” Peter asked incredulously. 

“Go ask Drax, he’s been dying to get Mantis kicked out since the beginning. Now go on, I’ve gotta plan and Groot can cover if anyone comes before the lunch hour,” Rocket said, rifling through a box full of nails. 

Peter left the truck, taking great care not to look at the slashed tires. He was relieved to see Drax out in front of his truck, pouting pointedly in Mantis’ direction. 

“Hey! Drax, do you have some time to run to the store for me?” Peter called. 

“Why should I help you? You’re just going to help Mantis,” Drax said. 

“Look, ruining her stock and harassing her in front of customers isn’t right,” Peter sighed. He knew that this was going nowhere fast. 

“But, I do know a way to get back at her that’s appropriate,” Peter said. 

“I’m listening,” Drax said, forgetting his earlier grudge immediately. Peter gestured for him to move closer, and glanced over his shoulder at Mantis as he whispered his plan to him. Drax burst into laughter, clapping Peter on the back. 

“Oh, I’ll get the strongest laxatives there is, she’ll be--” Peter clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Shush you idiot! She can hear you from fifteen feet away you know!” He hissed. Drax pushed his hand away, scowling. 

“I am one of the most discreet people I know,” He said. 

“Yeah okay, go be discreet at the corner store,” Peter said. 

“You gotta cover my stand though until I get back, got it?” Drax said, already walking off. 

“Yeah, sure! Free snow cones for everybody!” Peter shouted after him. Drax flipped him off.

“I’m gettin’ myself a free cone,” Peter said to himself, climbing into Drax’s truck. It was tiny compared to the space of his own truck, mostly because it was dwarfed by a massive ice shaving machine. And cold as hell, too. He wondered how on earth Drax was able to sit in here shirtless for hours on end. 

He made himself a snowcone, this time with blueberry flavoring. He kicked back on the one chair available, admiring the little keychain knives Drax kept hanging off of his cash register key. Peter hadn’t considered Drax to be the keychain hoarder type, but he was full of surprises it seemed. 

“Drax, the usual,” Gamora said from outside. Peter jumped, spilling his snowcone all over his shirt. 

“And what’ll that be, sugar?” Peter asked, leaning out the window to wink at Gamora. Gamora glared at him, jaw squared. 

“I’ll come back later,” She said stiffly, turning on her heel. 

“I can make a better snowcone than Drax can!” Peter shouted after her. “But only for people whose sister doesn’t slash my tires!” 

It seemed that nothing was going to get underneath Gamora’s skin. He seriously wondered if she even had a heart under all that bitterness. He flopped back in Drax’s chair, using a napkin to scrub at the blue on his shirt to no avail. 

Peter ended up having to quickly learn what the hell kind of mixture ‘blueberry blast’ was, as Drax’s regulars haunted the stall.

“Is Drax alright?” One friendly woman asked, after handing back her snowcone to be fixed for the third time. 

“Oh, yeah, just running an errand,” Peter said flippantly, grimacing as the blueberry flavoring broke and drenched the poor woman’s third snow cone. He gave it back, hoping that he had magically found the right balance. She took a careful bite. 

“Thanks, Peter! If you make barbecue as good as you made this, I’ll have to stop by sometime!” She said, smiling with blue teeth at him. 

“Uh, yeah, no problem,” Peter said, waving farewell. What was with Drax’s customers?

“Peter, I’m back with the “supplies”!” Drax shouted, using air quotations. Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank god, your customers are weird as hell,” Peter said, hopping out of the truck. Drax handed him the bag. 

“I know! They’re the best,” Drax said. Peter smiled ruefully; he should’ve figured Drax had the strange crowd. 

He made his way over to his barbecue truck, waving to the workers who spotted him outside of his customary spot. 

“Sorry to hear about your tires, I chipped in as much as I could,” A businessman said earnestly, patting Peter on the shoulder as he passed by. 

“Chipped in? There’s no fund,” Peter said. He turned back. Groot waved languidly to him, pointing to a large mason jar he was holding. Rocket was perched right at the window, in the middle of some sort of story that was causing the people listening to pull out their wallets. 

“What’s goin’ on here?” Peter asked. 

“Quill! The good people of the offices are helping their favorite food truck back onto four wheels,” Rocket said, winking at Peter. 

Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Rocket off for taking advantage of their customers, or if he wanted to cry. 

“You should’ve asked first,” Peter said instead, joining Rocket in the truck. 

“I’ll keep buttering them up, you start cooking,” Rocket said, ducking his head in momentarily. Peter noticed the several phonebooks Rocket was using as a stand, and decided to leave it. He was just happy he didn’t have to tell Yondu he was robbed. 

“Hey Rocket, you didn’t seriously follow through with your plan, did you?” Peter asked, laying strips of brisket on the grill. They were getting more customers than usual, not that he was complaining. 

“Oh, I thought of something,” Rocket said, laughing lightly. 

“Something that won’t have two pissed off women hitting me, right?” Peter asked, handing him an order of ribs. 

“Not if they check yelp anytime soon,” Rocket said mysteriously. 

“What did you say about them?” Peter asked. 

“Oh, just that someone found a really long, shriveled up rat’s tail in their iced mocha,” Rocket said. 

“Now that’s just evil,” Peter said, laughing. 

“I’m not done yet,” Rocket said, passing Peter the full jar of donations. Peter took it gingerly, trying not to cry over the sincerity of his customers. 

They ran through the rest of the lunchtime rush. Rocket started putting donations in an empty bin, chattering away about the plight of Peter Quill’s tires all the while. 

“You know Rocket, if you weren’t my most favorite in the coworker, I would suggest you start conning people for their cash,” Peter said fondly. 

“Who says I don’t do that already?” Rocket joked. “Groot and I have a little side business of our own, don’t you worry.” 

“And what’s that?” Peter asked. 

“Psychics. People love a good silent type, and with poor baby Groot losing his voice to the spirits, I stand in as his interpreter,” Rocket said. 

“Goddamn, you’re an evil mastermind,” Peter said. 

“Aw, don’t make me feel guilty about pocketing some of the donations,” Rocket said. 

“You’d better not,” Peter warned. Rocket waved him away good-naturedly, pocketing a five right in front of Peter’s eyes. 

“That’s it, you’re helping me clean out the truck,” Peter said. 

“Oh, no! Shit I had to do anyways!” Rocket mocked, waving goodbye to the last customer. 

While Rocket and Groot cleaned out the truck, Peter ran through the donations he had received. It would cover enough for two tires, and he could pitch in the rest. He looked up at the cloudy sky, sending a silent thank you to whatever entity that chose to be listening at the moment. 

“C’mon Quill, it’s payback time,” Rocket said, hopping out of the truck. Groot came out behind him, carrying four individual boards with extremely lethal looking nails sticking out of the ends. 

“Oh, shit, right!” Peter leaped to his feet. He ran into the truck, grabbing the medicine before following Rocket and Groot across the way. 

“Groot, be a gentleman and distract the two lovely ladies while I climb under the truck,” Rocket said. Peter figured he was just supposed to fill in his part of the scheme himself. 

“Mantis! Can I have two small cups of your yogurt?” Peter called, waving to the girl. 

“Of course! You’ll be my twentieth customer today!” Mantis said brightly, beaming. Peter tried not to wince; that wasn’t good at all. 

“Well, I’ve been meaning to try out your yogurt; Drax keeps raving on about it, I figured I’d see what the big deal was,” Peter said brightly. 

“I know Drax and I have gotten off to a bad start. I’m an empath you know; I’m trying to send positive feelings his way, he’s just so angry I figure that my good thoughts might change him a little!” Mantis said. 

“Oh, yeah, might have to do that for a couple of uhm, months before anything even starts to change,” Peter faltered, handing her the cash. 

“Have a good day, Mister Quill!” She said, giving him the two cups. Peter grabbed two spoons and rounded his way over to Drax’s truck, where he rounded the corner. He dropped to a crouch, quickly breaking out the laxative box and popped it open. He dropped several tablets in, and mixed the yogurt rapidly while they dissolved. He discarded of the box underneath Drax’s truck, and bounced back up. 

Good, Groot was still keeping them stalled. He waltzed on over, whistling a happy tune. 

“Nebula! My old friend! I figure that since we keep getting off to a bad start, I should be the one to offer up a peace treaty of sorts,” Peter said breezily, holding up one of the yogurts. 

“I already tried to barter with you, Quill. You refused me,” Nebula snapped. 

“I know, I know, it’s hard being rejected by the one and only Peter Quill, but at least he has the heart to give yogurt,” Peter offered his best winning smile. Nebula glared at him for a long moment, before snatching the yogurt away from him. 

“Gamora! He’s back!” She shouted, disappearing within. Gamora popped her head out a moment later, looking exasperated. 

“Look, I can’t pay for your truck’s tires, I’m really sorry but--” She paused, startled by the yogurt Peter was shoving into her face.

“It’s cool dude, all good in the hood and all that,” Peter said. 

“Thank...you?” Gamora said suspiciously, taking the treat from him. She took a careful bite, before setting it down. 

“No problem at all! It’s one of Mantis’ special blends, you should ask her about it if you like it,” Peter said brightly. 

“Quill, I’m done!” Rocket hissed, already scampering across the block. 

“Well would you look at that, my coworker is done with his smoke break. You know how it is, smoking and...all that. See ya!” Peter turned on his heel, following Rocket. Groot followed behind, signing something to Rocket. 

“What do you mean yogurt? That wasn’t a part of the plan-oh holy shit Quill, you didn’t seriously give them the laxatives did you?” Rocket asked. 

“You said that was part of the plan!” Peter said. 

“Oh my god, I was just kidding! You just ruined their entire night dude,” Rocket burst into laughter, holding his sides. 

“Rocket you asshole! I ruined my favorite shirt for this!” Peter complained. 

“Oh man, this is the best job I’ve had in weeks, am I right, Groot?” Rocket said, elbowing Groot’s leg. Groot nodded amiably. 

“You guys can go ahead and head home if you want, I’ll have to stick around until a tow truck comes along,” Peter said. 

“Sure, sure. Hey Quill? Don’t forget to turn off the sink,” Rocket said, winking at him. 

“No problem,” Peter said, slipping into the truck. He shut the metal window divider and went to the sink, where an envelope sat. 

 

_ Hope this covers the third. You’re a cool boss, Quill _

_ -G&R _

 

Okay, Peter was definitely going to cry. 

He moved to the front of the truck, slouching in the drivers seat as he made a call for a tow truck. When that was all said and done, he turned the radio on, switching to his favorite cd. He rested his head on the driver’s wheel as he waited, letting the familiar old music soothe him for just a little while. 

Peter jumped at the sound of a knock on his window. He made a face, noticing that it was Gamora of all people. 

“Can I help you?” He asked, opening the door. Gamora took a deep breath, as if she had rehearsed this a thousand times. 

“I’m here to...to apologize for what happened earlier today. I brought you our iced mocha as apology,” She said, handing him the drink. Peter glanced at the name on the label; it was his name, with a little star beside it again. 

“Did your sister make it?” He asked lightly. 

“No, Nebula was against the idea of being nice but...she’s not feeling well so I figured she couldn’t stop me if I stopped by,” Gamora admitted. 

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll be seeing you again tomorrow?” Peter asked. 

“Rain or shine, that’s what Thanos expects. Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Gamora smiled softly, causing Peter’s heart to skip a beat. 

“Hey, tell your sister I hope she feels better,” Peter said. Gamora raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I will,” She said at last, before turning and going. Peter took a sip of the drink. God, it was ten times better than he originally thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Your comments made me smile, thank you so so much! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, at last, my pseudonym finally fits the fandom. I freaking adore food truck aus! I also adore the guardians of the galaxy franchise too. I hope you guys loved reading this as much as I did writing it! 
> 
> Oh! And I officially have a tumblr specifically for fanfiction related things, and it's at celestial-starlord.tumblr.com ! drop by and say hi!! Thank you so much for reading xoxo


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